A Friend for a Rainy Day
by Yzabelle
Summary: There are times when you need to lean on a friend. But an enemy's shoulder will do just the same. A Dramione fanfic by ZC. Read it if you must. Review if you dare.


**A Friend for a Rainy Day**

**Disclaimer: I can only wish that HP is mine. But that's not happening apparently. And I do love JK Rowling for having a brilliant mind.**

Author's Note: I'll be honest. Before, I had no understanding why this pairing is so popular. But after reading lots and lots of stories about them and watching some music videos, I found myself unable to stop from writing a Dramione. I can't help it. Still, I would admit that I have a lot to learn in writing, especially a Dramione fic. So please do tell me what you think. I'm a girl who LOVES reviews. ^^

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_**1**_

"Where am I?" She asked, memories of last night flashing in her mind in blurred visions. She turned to look around, hoping to get clues on where she was but froze, suddenly alarmed despite the pain brought about by the bloody hangover and blinked at the sight of a figure hovering in the shadows.

"About time you wake up." came a masculine voice, both amused and domineering. The figure stepped into the light and it almost felt like she's in the war again with Voldemort in tow, except he was dead, and instead, stood someone who was more familiar.

"Malfoy?" She asked, pulling herself up to stand but winced in the pain of her throbbing head. So she settled on carefully maneuvering herself to get a better view of her visitor. "What are you doing here?"

She certainly wasn't expecting him to scoff, popping open a can of Pepsi. Had it been another day, she would have commented out of stun that Malfoy of all people, hater and discriminator of all muggle borns would be seen drinking a muggle-made drink. Just the thought made her wonder if crows have turned white and pigs can be seen flying somewhere, not in a magical sense of course.

"Of course I'd be here Granger. You're in my flat."

His tone was bored, but his words were enough. The realization hit her like a hex. She was in a flat, a flat that belongs to none other than her arch nemesis however way back it was in Hogwarts. But what came as the biggest blow was her looking down, half scared and half ashamed, eyes widening as her worst fears were confirmed. She was in his bed, covered in his sheets, with nothing but her undergarments.

Her first reaction was like that of any normal female who woke up to find themselves in somebody else's bed with no clear recollection of the previous night. She screamed.

"Oh calm yourself down Granger! Nothing happened!" He said, taking a zip and she caught the exasperation if not repulsiveness in his tone. "Seriously, I don't know why you'd even think something happened. Surely you haven't forgotten who I am, and even more, who _you_ are." The last part he added looking her directly in the eyes.

"Then what am I doing here Malfoy?" she snapped furiously. If she had the slightest hope that seven years after the war could have changed him, the thought vanished that very moment. And it was crystal clear again that all she could ever feel for the boy, no, the man standing in front of her was pure loathing and pity. She glared as he watched her seemingly uninterested. "And why am I-" She gulped, clutching the sheets so hard her knuckles were turning white to cover her bare chest.

"Are you always this-," he paused, arching an eyebrow, smirking as he tried to think of a word. "this interesting in the morning Granger?"

Her answer was an even harder glare. She made sure to give him the idea that if glares could kill, he would be ashes by now.

She watched him ignore her death glares and walked pass her to the room on the right. He opened it and she had to stop herself from gaping at the extravagant display of his wealth. Sure, she knew he was rich, but seriously? It was like an entire store of clothes in there, all designer's made no doubt. Luckily, his back was turned so he didn't get the chance to humiliate her even more. He began rummaging his clothes, neatly piled and clean it didn't look anything like that of Harry's or Ron's. While Harry's was at least sorted by colors, the boy-who-lived still has the habit of combining used and clean t-shirts and would find himself trying to recall if he'd worn a pair of pants some days before. As for Ron, the name itself gave everything away.

Without bothering to look at her, the blonde threw her a cloth, a green sporty shirt. She caught it albeit reluctantly.

"I have no intentions of seeing a naked girl walking in my kitchens." He explained briskly when she threw him a questioning look, and then he added smugly much to her chagrin. "Unless of course, I was the one who undressed her."

This time she gaped, disgusted and crept out by the mere thought he was playing at. "Don't you dare-" she began, but he ignored her, walking his way to what she believe was the exit door.

"The bathroom's the second door to your left. Use it if you want. Don't if not. I don't really care. I just need you presentable enough in case someone drops by. Anyway, I'll be in the living room. Come see me when you're done."

Alone to suffer what she can only call as either stupidity or insanity, she allowed herself to lean back only too carelessly she hit the bloody headboard. She grimaced at the impact, checking the back of her head for any sign of bleeding. Luckily, there wasn't any. Carefully this time, she managed to stand up despite the pounding in her head. She tried to look around for her clothes, but the only cloth in sight was the one he threw at her. Sighing, she let his sheet fall to the ground and she took the shirt, his shirt. The image of a gray smirking wolf in the middle front caught her eyes. She frowned. Oddly enough, it reminded her of him.

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He tried but couldn't fight the smile forming on his lips at the sight of her. She was too damn amusing for a mud- , no, he shouldn't use that word anymore. He made a vow never to use it again. He's the kind of man who never breaks a promise, no matter how hard it could be. It wouldn't be easy. Merlin he can see it already, him having to stop his brain from forming malicious insults to throw at her. He would have to fight seven years of habit for the sake of keeping his word. Damn Pansy for making him vow. But then again, it wasn't Pansy who saw her last night. And it wasn't Pansy who saw her drowning herself in alcohol and getting hit on without having a clue.

It wasn't his fault really. If anything it was hers. Because mud-… He sighed, stopping himself halfway. Granger or not, he wasn't raised to let a defenseless girl get mauled and throw her life away. Not even if said girl was crazy enough to go alone and drank herself to death in the pub. Not even if said girl has moves that made everyone in the dance floor stop in awe of her. He scowled, emptying the can and unconsciously crashing it with his bare hand.

She wasn't even supposed to be there. She was Granger. She was supposed to be in a library, burrying herself in her bloody books. She wasn't supposed to be anything synonymous to fun or … He frowned, throwing himself in the couch, the television screen turned on with just a flick of his finger. He knew her for many things. She's infuriatingly annoying, a know-it-all and made his blood boil for being the only witch who could ever match his insults. She always had a come back for everything he threw at her, and not just any come back mind you. She's always had this ability, he'd come to acknowledge albeit begrudgingly, to get on his skin unlike any other. And last night, he'd seen a different side of her. Last night, she wasn't the head girl who deducted points from his house for playing childish pranks as she called them to poor helpless first year Ravenclaws. She didn't have the spark, neither the spirit that always made her _the _Hermione Granger in his mind. He'll never admit it of anyone asks, but it was a fact that at one point, he wondered how things would be if she wasn't a muggle born and she wasn't his enemy. He wondered if perhaps they could have been good allies, and that he would have earned her loyalty in a way not even Potter could. But she was the enemy. And it was his habit of wanting to taunt her every chance he got that made him come to her. Only he didn't expect to see her alone, and he certainly didn't expect to see her look so lost, so _un_Granger like.

"Malfoy?"

He turned to see her looking very uncomfortable and wearing the shirt he gave her, _his _shirt.

"Granger." He greeted, instantly returning to his charming arrogant self that he knew would infuriate her. "I see you're done screaming like a banshee. Do tell me if you plan to take a career in breaking glasses with that voice. I do know some people who would pay you a generous amount."

He received another one of her glares, not it that it didn't give him the chills. Didn't being past tense. He's Draco Malfoy after all. It wasn't the first time she tried to turn him to ashes with those glares.

He watched her silently as she crossed the room and threw herself unceremoniously in the couch beside him, only leaving a space for a nonexistent box of popcorn.

She was pouting, biting and unbiting her lower lip in an obvious internal debate. Patience wasn't one of his best traits, but seeing Granger in doubt was something that was entertaining enough for the time being. And Merlin, even Lucius, dead Father as he was, wouldn't reprimand him for being affected at the sight of her, legs crossed exposing way too much skin that was unhealthy for both their sakes. Merlin, doesn't she know enemy or not, he's not entirely different from any other bloke?

He groaned, startling her, her thinking process ruined by the sound.

"Ah-" he paused, cursing his hormones. "Fancy an omelet or something? It is breakfast after all." He offered, silently hoping she won't recognize his shame.

He thanked the heavens when she didn't say a word, just looked at him as if he spouted antlers, but nodded nevertheless.

"I would be grateful for breakfast." She said at last.

A snap from him and Buzzy the elf popped out bowing politely at him and his guest.

He didn't fail to catch the shock in Granger's face when she realized the elf was wearing the full set of a maid's outfit. "Buzzy, Granger and I would like omelets. And make a chef's clubhouse and some fruits to go with that." He said then turned to her again, "Granger anything else? Drinks?"

The amusement didn't leave her face though she managed to quickly recover. "Ahm, just an orange juice for me please Buzzy."

"Actually, make that two. I could do without caffeine intake in the morning."

"Is that all young master?" the elf asked, looking too excited. "Ms. Granger, Buzzy makes the best chef's clubhouse! Buzzy's sure Ms. Granger will love it!"

Granger, being Granger, smiled at that. Malfoy waved his hand impatiently though and Buzzy the elf bowed his leave and disappeared.

"She's wearing clothes." She commented, unable to hide a smile.

"Way to state the obvious Granger." It took a lot of will power but he managed to focus his eyes on the movie being played, something about knights jousting for a maiden's hand.

"Malfoy I…" she began but paused, and there she goes again with her obvious discomfort. He sighed, turning but reminding his eyes to look away soon enough before his mind dwells on the attractiveness of the witch sitting beside him.

"Look Granger, it doesn't matter. You don't need to tell me anything. Believe it or not, I was raised to be a gentleman despite our past encounters in Hogwarts. Just take it as me saving an old acquaintance from waking in a stranger's bed with a bloody hangover. It wasn't much of a trouble as I've had enough practice with Pansy anyway." He said rather quickly hoping she catch on and dismiss the topic.

He wasn't expecting her to smile at him, a smile that he only saw her give to Potter or Weasley whenever they did something noble. Draco Malfoy was everything noble in all sense of the world. He was raised to act noble and chivalrous to people that matter. It was that instant that a question started to plague his mind as to how and when Hermione Granger had become one of those people.

"Thank you." She said, in a voice barely above whisper, her eyes full of gratitude. He would have nodded and indulge her with something witty and infuriating, except he found himself unable to look away from those eyes. Her eyes. Brown like melted chocolate and looking only at him, for the first time, without disgust or pity or hate. And he realized he like them that way. Later he would be sane enough to realize how crazy and ridiculous it all was. He was a Malfoy and she was, well she was Granger. But later can wait and for now, for now he was crazy enough. Now, he didn't leave both of them any time to ponder about things. He took a dive and kissed her.

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_A/N: P.S. Do remember to inspire me with reviews. ^^ Thank you for reading!_


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